


Lets Do The Time Warp Again

by eiyria



Category: Dresden Files - All Media Types, Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Gen, Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-16
Updated: 2012-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-02 00:51:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiyria/pseuds/eiyria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the Dresden Files Kink Meme:<br/>PROMPT:<br/>Marcone dealing with an angry, teenage Harry, and all the flickering, exploding lights that comes with it. Except it isn't because Harry got hit with a spell. It's because Malcolm and Margaret had him later than cannon.<br/>Marcone POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 01

I was at a small gathering, attending as a benefactor for one of the charities I support on the legal side of things. The local community center was closed on Sundays, so it was taking place at the Burger King across the street. 

As part of my business facade, I wasn't going to be the odd one out and not order. 

I stood in line behind the older woman who was the small organization's president. Lovely woman, a bit of an idealist though. She ordered and went back to the table, leaving me alone with the cashier. 

He was young, seventeen at most, and all limbs and long legs. His hair was messy and long, like it had been a while since he'd had a haircut. He didn't smell that great, and I assumed he'd likewise was due for a bath. His clear cut name-tag said "Harry".

Usually I control my features, but this time my facade broke. I wrinkled my nose a little in disgust and looked at the menu.

He must have seen my expression, seen me judging him, because what he did next was extremely -ahem,- unruly. 

"What are you looking at?" He growled. "Order your damn meal and mind your own business."

I didn't speak. It had been a long time since anyone had the gall to speak to me that way. Most who did ended up with a bullet in their head, and their body at the bottom of Lake Michigan. 

Someone came up behind him and knocked him upside the head. He flinched and turned on them, "Hey!"

A shorter woman with dark hair and dark skin brushed his anger off. She turned to face him and give him a smile. I caught sight of her name-tag, it read "Susan". I watched their exchange. Despite his tone of voice, Harry didn't seem to be actually mad at Susan. Their arguing seemed to be routine. 

Susan took two fingers, pointed to her chest, and then brought her fingers up to point at her face. "Eyes up here kid-do. Don't get any ideas. I don't go for jailbait." 

He snorted in reply.

Susan seemed to notice me, "And Harry, you have a customer. Treat him nicely or it will come out of your pay."

Harry growled. Yes, growled. I don't know who taught him manners, but whomever it was, I offhandedly considered shooting them. I can't stand the rambunctious sorts with little etiquette. That's why I have middle men. 

I didn't appreciate rudeness, and if this boy knew me, he'd be thankful for my course of action. "I was wondering if I could speak to the manager?"

Harry glared at me with his dark eyes. "No." The lights flickered above me. 

I felt my eyes narrow. Really, this boy was irritating and seemed to snap all my nerves. 

The woman, Susan, interposed herself. "I'm sorry, Mr-" she questioned for my name. 

"Marcone."

Her eyes widened a fraction of an inch. Ah, she knew who I was. Admirably, she kept her voice steady. "Mr. Marcone, I'm sorry but our supervising manager had to step out for an emergency. I apologize for any inconvenience Harry has caused, and I'd like to offer you a free meal for your troubles. I can also give you our manager's number if you wish to file a complaint later."

She wrote down the information on the back of a receipt and handed it to me. I didn't take my eyes off Harry. He was glaring daggers at me.

I thanked Susan. She turned from me, grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him behind her. As she stalked away, angry teen in tow, she called to one of her coworkers. "Lydia Stern, work the register please."

I pocketed the receipt, which Susan had been very careful to not get grease on, and sat down with Hendricks and the charity's older ladies.

His face was questioning. 

"It is alright Mr. Hendricks. Just an angry employee."

"Wizard."

I turned my attention to the older woman who'd just spoken. "Beg your pardon ma'am?" I politely asked.

She seemed to be in a trance for a moment, her frail hands encircling her coffee cup. "The lights flickered. Magic. Wizard." She shook her head, clearing her mind, and looked up at the two of us. "Sorry," she laughed to herself. "Sometimes my mind goes places." She motioned with her hand, dismissing her lapse into lunacy as something unimportant. 

But my interest was piked. Hendricks knew it too. I knew the man was uncharacteristically intuitive, just as I knew the older woman before me was not crazy in the least.

My thought were sidetracked when I saw a woman in uniform open the side door. She was a short blond, and I immediately recognized her as Lieutenant Murphy from my file. I made it a habit in my line of work, to recognize and identify the incorruptible among the law enforcement agencies. 

She walked in and looked behind the counter. She leaned over the counter, her legs almost leaving the ground as her head looked both ways. 

Harry's replacement, Lydia spoke softly to her, in a low voice I couldn't hear.

The Lieutenant's features stiffened and she went around the counter and into the food area. A few seconds later I heard a heavy door slam open. A few seconds more, and the Lieutenant was dragging the teen in by his wrist. Susan followed, clearly taken aback by the suddenness of the intrusion. 

"I didn't do anything," he snapped. "It was that ass-hat's fault."

"Language!" Susan whacked him upside the head.

He spun on her. "Will you quit doing that?" Lights flickered. His voice came out much scarier than I thought possible for someone his age. Susan shrunk back at the sound of it.

His reaction was instant. His posture went lax and his tall form seemed to fold in on itself. "I'm sorry, Susan, I didn't mean to snap, I'm sor-" he reached out in a peaceful gesture, but Susan pulled away before he touched her. 

Her voice was choked. "I need to get back to work."

He stood their frozen for a moment, and Lieutenant Murphy let him. He wrapped his arms tightly around his midsection and turned around, face downcast and shaded by his unruly hair. 

He looked like he was about to say something.

"Dresden, go sit at the table."

He muttered something to himself and hugged himself harder. The lights flickered more. The cash register bing-ed and the money drawer shot out. 

The Lieutenant cut off whatever he was saying. "Dresden." She enunciated each word. "Go sit at the table." In case words weren't enough, she pointed. 

I kept watching out of the corner of my eye. It wasn't hard, everyone from the charity was eavesdropping and pretending they weren't. 

Lieutenant Murphy ordered two coffees, and Lydia looked distressed when she returned with them. Murphy picked both of them up and walked over to the table where Harry sat. 

He was slouched in the booth, eyes unfocused, and jaw clenched. I couldn't tell if he was angry or ashamed. Maybe both. 

The flickering lights were starting to get annoying. 

The Lieutenant passed the boy a coffee, pushing it right under his gaze so he could see it. They sat there drinking silently for a few minutes. Murphy's eyes locked on him, and his eyes ever analyzing the salt shaker. 

The charity ladies went back to minding their own business. I half listened, not that I needed to. I was only here for my image. Although, considering the location, it probably was knocking off more points from my reputation than it was gaining. 

Lieutenant Murphy and the teen started talking in soft voices. I could not hear them over the charity ladies' chatter. I read his body language instead. He kept his head down, but every now and then, he'd chance a glance up at the Lieutenant. 

The two of them eventually finished their coffee and walked out. Harry followed the Lieutenant like a duckling, abet an unnaturally tall one. 

When I was sure they had left, I politely excused myself from the table and went back to the register. The middle-aged woman, Lydia was getting out new plastic packs of ketchup when I approached her. 

"Excuse me," I said, pleased as could be, "I was wondering if you could give me the name of the young man who just left."

She shifted uncomfortably in place. I guess she was under the impression that I was going to report her coworker. I'd put her in a difficult situation, but some how I couldn't find the will to care. 

"His name, if you please," I prodded. 

"Um, yeah," she stuttered. "His name is Harry."

"Harry -what?" I urged.

"Dresden. Harry Dresden."

"Could you tell a little bit about him." She hustled in place a little more. I was going to get nowhere if she felt she was betraying him. "Maybe he was just having a bad day?" 

She seemed to get the hint, and her features loosened. "I don't know, he doesn't talk to me more than he has to. Susan probably knows more than anyone here. And Karrin Murphy know the most. She's been watching over him since he went to jail."

Well, that was surprising. Kids going to prison isn't a thought that sits comfortably with me. Why Lydia was choosing to tell me this also remained a mystery. With those people skills I could understand why she was working a fast food restaurant at her age. "Sorry, for a moment I thought you said 'jail'."

"Yeah," she chirped, a lot more talkative, "I don't know the details, but he got in trouble for-" she waved her hand in the air, "Something. I'm not sure what. Anyways, Murphy was in charge of his case. He must have grown on her, because she's been watching out for him ever since."

"Ah," I let out a mock sigh. "A complicated situation." I smiled at her. "Thank you Lydia. You've been very helpful."

"Yes, Sir." 

I exchanged pleasantries with the charity ladies, and told them I was forced by circumstance to leave early.

Hendricks shadowed me out the door. As we got into the car, I whipped out my blackberry and began to make inquiries to my contacts in law enforcement. If the kid had been to jail, he'd have a record. I wanted a paper-trail and any information that came with it.


	2. Chapter 02

The boy's name was Harry Dresden. Arson. Juvenile detention center for 26 weeks. Photographs and fingerprints taken. Arresting officer Rudolph, superior Lieutenant Murphy. By special circumstances he'd gotten his community service pushed on weekends. Community service ended soon. Weekdays burger king. No current education enrollment. All prior records -lost, with the exception of a short period of paperwork from the foster care system. Both parents dead.

I placed the single sheet of paper on my desk and looked up at the man who'd brought it. He was slim and wore a fitted suit.

I met his gaze. My annoyance didn't show. I had gotten most of this information from the half-witted woman who'd worked the register. "This can't be all of it," I inquired. I've found it is best to not unduly frighten those in my employment. Traitors are much less likely if you treat them with respect.

"I know Mr. Marcone. I followed every trail, electric and paper. The only records that exist are those he's obtained after entering the city. It took hours but I managed to track down his birth certificate, of which I'm not entirely sure of its credibility. He was in the foster care system for a number of years. And three to four years later he was adopted. I'm not sure by whom."

"Did you talk to the people in charge. It is a long shot but they might remember." I mused to myself. With that attitude, he'd be hard to forget.

"I've called." My investigator looked slightly confused. "I thought since most of the original staff was still employed, I might be able to get information out of them. I scheduled an appointment to speak face to face. They didn't seem to remember him." The investigator shifted in place slightly. "It was really bizarre," he murmured under his breath. "I took out a paycheck written for the foster parents, with the director's signature clearly scrawled on. I expected they wouldn't remember, but their reaction was ~stranger."

I motioned with my hand for him to continue.

"When I showed them the checks, the evidence, it was as if they couldn't see it. As if it was invisible to their eyes. They got fed up with me, and threw me out for a cruel prank and wasting their time. I know cover ups Mr. Marcone. They didn't act like they were covering anything up. It was more like they couldn't physically see the checks."

I didn't move. "Thank you for your effort. This information will suffice. You can collect your paycheck on the way out."

As if on cue, Mr. Hendricks opened the door for the investigator and gave him quick directions downstairs. He entered the room, closed the door, and sat in the big armchair in front of my desk.

"I take it you heard everything."

Hendricks grunted an affirmative. 

I waited. Mr. Hendricks was one of my most trusted men. I kept him by my side for that reason. However, even I couldn't have predicted if he would even fathom what was running through my head. 

We'd both seen things out of the corner of our eyes. We'd forced ourselves to believe it was just a trick of the light. But after so many encounters, I couldn't help but wonder how much safer I'd be knowing about these threats than living in ignorance. 

Thankfully, for my sanity, Mr. Hendricks answered before I'd even had the chance to ask the question. He said it in such a way that there was no room for misinterpretation. 

"Why are you so interested in the wizard?"

I breathed out a sigh of relief. I wasn't crazy.

"He clearly annoys you."

He was being frank with me. The polite thing was to give him the same courtesy. "Due to recent events, I'm considering expanding our security. I'm thinking of a consultant who might better prepare me to anticipate supernatural threats to my business."

Hendricks leaned back into the armchair. "And how much do you think a sixteen year old boy is going to know about supernatural threats?" 

"Seventeen," I interjected, pointing at the paper on my desk. "As of Halloween."

My right hand man didn't comment on my petty remark. "Even assuming the 'wizard' part, he hasn't been alive long enough to be of much use as a consultant. Unless -" he raised his gaze to look at me. "Unless by 'consultant' you mean shield."

I suppressed a wince. Even though seventeen wasn't really a child, it was young enough that putting one in the line of fire bothered me. 

We sat silent for a moment. We both knew what I was going to do. 'How' on the other hand, had yet to be determined. 

"The Lieutenant might be a problem," I mused. "It seems her family history in the occult runs a lot deeper than her behavior suggests."

"I'll find out his schedule then."

"No need," I hastily replied. I pulled out a Burger King receipt from my desk drawer. "I can set up an appointment with the manager. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to let me discuss his failings at customer service."

"Boss," Hendricks spoke. "He might be more willing to sign on, if he first didn't think you were trying to get him fired." Hendricks paused for a moment. "I'll put someone on figuring out his daily schedule."


	3. Chapter 03

I watched from the parking spot across from Lieutenant Murphy's home.

A saturn drove up and parked along the street. Harry popped out of the passenger's side and the Lieutenant followed. He waited for her at the side of the street. She turned him towards her house, hand pressed against his back, and walked side by side with him up to the front door. 

It was oddly endearing. 

She talked to him on the doorstep for a bit before returning to her car. He waved to her, and it was an adorably childish gesture. He watched her car round the corner, and when she disappeared from sight, he physically sulked. Head low, he gently shut the door.

And then I made a move.

It wasn't the smartest choice to meet him at his living space. But I didn't see an alternative. Unless I wanted to show up at his workplace, there really were no other options. The Lieutenant drove him to and from work, and in my employee's week and a half of monitoring his schedule, he hadn't once left the house. Oddly his schedule reflected the persona, quite the opposite of the rebellious teen I'd met at the register. The amount of contradictions he exhibited was something of a puzzle.

I let out a nervous breath, one I rarely was allowed in the presence of public. I had a reputation to uphold. 

I raised my hand and knocked firmly on the door. I felt a tingle of sharp sensation ripple up my skin. It was an electric feeling that left the hair on my arm standing straight up. I kept my hands in front of me. With all his records gone, I didn't know how much time this boy had spent in the presence of violent men. It was better to keep one's hands where the other can see them. 

The door opened, revealing Harry. His dark eyes were fixed on me. Not my eyes. Just me. I watched his expression mold through the stages of surprise and disbelief, before finally settling on anger. 

"How dare you," he growled. "You have no right." His eyebrows knotted together and his gaze sharpened. I saw his empty hand clench into a fist and shake miserably. "This is my home." I heard the grinding of teeth, and the last part came out barely more than a miserable growl. "Get out. Now." 

Tip-toe-ing around the subject was clearly not going to work, so I dove straight to the heart of the issue. Something that would at least keep the teen from slamming the door in my face. "You're a wizard."

His mouth sagged open for a few moments. His hand slipped from the door nob. His gaze which had been careful to avoid locking eyes, widened in fear and stared blankly into mine.

I felt an uncomfortable tug and his eyes seemed to swallow mine.

When what felt like minutes later had passed, I seemed to snap back into my own head. 

I'd practiced keeping a near-perfect poker face for years. Upon occasion, my occupation and life tended to depend on my ability to keep my opinions to myself. Harry Dresden had cracked that facade in our previous encounter. He'd shocked me with rudeness and contempt, beyond what I'd come to accept in my everyday life. He'd caught me off guard. 

I'd come prepared this time. So even though my mind had temporarily been displaced and I'd seen things beyond my level of normality, I'd somehow managed to keep hold of my facial features. However, it had nothing to do with my preparation. I figured it was more of a combination of luck and experience. 

I wasn't quite sure what had just happened, but it was an opening, and I took it. "Harry, what -," I asked, "Was that?" I didn't have to fake much of the shock I interjected into my inquiry. I had no idea what had happened, but I had every intention of finding out. 

Harry visibly twitched when I said his first name, but he seemed to have relaxed since we'd exchanged that strange eye exchange. He clung to the door, he seemed tired and the door seemed to be keeping him upright. "It's called a soul gaze." He sounded as if he were reading a long list of trivial facts. "When wizards make eye contact it happens. The wizard sees the other's soul, and the other sees the wizards soul. It is a two way street. Very personal. It doesn't happen very often with lower level practitioners, they usually don't have the juice to make the cut."

I nodded, and cut back to the chase. "Harry -."

He noticeably twitched again. 

I nodded by head politely in apology. "Mr. Dresden-," I amended.

He didn't squirm when I used his surname, which was fortunate. It was awkward addressing someone nearly half my age as 'Mr'.

"I came to talk to you about an employment position I have available. Recently there has been some supernatural commotion that has been causing problems for my business and Chicago. I'm looking for a consultant to help me identify threats and remove them if necessary."

He shrunk back visibly. "I'm not a threat."

I was confused on how he'd reached that conclusion. The only thing I could think of was that his reaction was probably a result of his time in the criminal justice system. Possibly his loyalties lay farther from the law-abiding side than I'd initially anticipated. "I never said you were. If you accepted the position, you'd help educate me in matters of the occult."

I stopped. His attention seemed to be elsewhere. He looked back at me, eyes pensive. I noticed he didn't look away from my eyes this time.

"You're... a bad man."

"Ah," I sighed. "I beg your pardon?"

His tall body was nearly completely hidden behind the door. "I saw your car when we pulled in. You waited till Mrs. Murphy was out of site." His eyes never left mine, but I felt as if his mind was elsewhere, piecing together a puzzle.

What I could see of his eyes, widened. "You talk like him."

"Har- Mr. Dresden," I tried to get his attention off of his current train of thought. "For your services I could offer you a decent paycheck. Much more than the wages you currently receive. And if there is anything you need -"

I cut my speech off when I noticed he wasn't listening in the slightest. "You talk too much like him... Polite words masking intent... You dress like him too... Pompous... Concerned with false appearances... You want to own my loyalty... Me..."

His mind came out of whatever trance it had ventured into. His eyes snapped into consciousness. The single light in the doorway flickered.

"You're a bad man."

I didn't say anything.

"Get out. Now." He seethed. The bulb above him shattered, and shards rained down on his messy hair. The absence of light left him in the dark. Except for his gleaming eyes. "If you don't walk away right now, I will splatter you against the pavement. I don't care if they come after me. I'll do it."

The hate in his eyes, was something I'd only seen on a select few men. Dangerous men. Mad men. I heard the cackling of electricity in the air. A strange soft popping noise. Something heavy and oppressive settled in the air and threatened to gag me. It felt like a bad emotion that had rotted and curdled. Everything felt wrong. No matter how much I needed a consultant, it wasn't worth my life. I turned and walked back to the car. As I did I called out to him, "Think about it at least."

"Goodbye Mr. Marcone."

I smiled to myself. At least he knew my name. If he had a change of heart, he would be able to find me. I opened the door to the car and slid in. Hendricks was waiting for me.

"Are you not afraid he'll use your name to track you down and splatter you on someone else's pavement?" Mr. Hendricks asked.

I chuckled. "Splattered? No. It isn't his style. If anything, my body would be found bar-B-Q-ed."

I saw Hendricks cock an eyebrow in the rearview mirror.

Besides, I thought to myself, I don't think murder will be on his mind tomorrow. I doubt the Lieutenant would protect a boy she thought was inherently bad. While he was capable of extreme violence, I didn't think he would actually act upon his rage unless his life was at stake. And more importantly, when he'd threatened to splatter me on the sidewalk, he'd casually mentioned a third party. A nameless 'they', who frowned upon that kind of deadly behavior. Thirdly, the soul gaze told me he wouldn't. 

I settled in snugly to the back seat. That 'soul gaze' had given me an unanticipated advantage. I knew him now. I knew the person that he was, which might just turn out to be the deciding factor to get him on my side.


	4. Chapter 04

The next time I met Harry Dresden, the meeting was completely unplanned and unexpected. I was at a baseball game with my lead lawyer. He happened to be a big fan, and I happened to have a case against me that needed urgent discussing. He was lucky he had such a high win rate, or I wouldn't have tolerated such a course of action. Hendricks wasn't with me, which was slightly bothersome. I caught myself eyeing the crowd constantly, wary of danger my enforcer would usually spot.

He'd fished out the paperwork for my current lawsuit, and I was getting up to leave, when I spotted Dresden. He was with a large family, eagerly cheering on the home team. His hair stuck out from beneath a baseball cap, he had a ketchup soaked hotdog in one hand, and what looked like a cup of oversized Coca-cola in the other.

I heard the chink of a bat hitting a ball, followed by a roar erupting from the crowd. Dresden leapt out of his seat, let out a loud victorious yowl, and in the process of throwing his hands in the air, accidentally slopped Coke out of his cup and onto the strong family man beside him.

Dresden noticed and froze. He looked up at the man. I squinted my eyes and looked more closely. His face looked afraid, and it looked like he was apologizing repeatedly. My spine tingled. I didn't think the rest of the family had caught on. By the look of Dresden's face, I half expected the man to hit him. The look on his face was not reminiscent of children from happy suburbia homes. Instead the man's posture sank a little and pulled down Dresden's cap to cover his face. It was an oddly playful gesture. The man's back was towards me, so I couldn't see his face, but I was pretty sure the man said something. Dresden nodded, and the man wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and pulled the teen in to lean against him.

Before I had time to wonder about who the man was, time seemed to freeze. The cries in the stadium slowed down to nothing. People froze in their seats. I saw the baseball players stop in mid run, feet still in the air.

I sensed an attack, and I managed to draw my knife and get a swipe in at my attacker. Time seemed to jolt back to real time, before it slowed again. I didn't get a good look at my attacker. He -it- whichever, moved too fast. My two-and-a-half inches of bladed weapon was twisted out of my grip and sent spinning down the cement stairs. I lost sight of it under a bleacher chair. I immediately regretted complying with Chicago law. A switchblade or a longer SEAL would almost certainly land me in jail, which seemed a lovely idea compared to what my supernatural attacker seemed to have in mind. 

By some luck I managed to knock my attacker off of me. I jumped up and jogged quickly up the stairs. I could hear it groan and then lurch up the stairs after me. I had no doubt it would catch up. As I ran down the hall, dodging frozen people and knocking others away, I reached in my pocket for my blackberry. I dialed Hendricks' number and held it to my ear as I ran. I could hear my attacker getting closer. He yelled after me. I had no intention of turning around or slowing down. The phone wasn't even ringing and I drew it away from my ear to look at it. It was dead. It didn't turn on, and I wasn't going to wait for it too. 

It had only been a few seconds, but my opponent was already on me. I felt his fingers graze the tips of my scalp. He didn't have a grip, by a mere fraction. He must have reached farther than expected and lost his balance, because I heard a fumble of feet.

I took the opportunity and ran towards the gift shop. I would have to fight. That second was all I needed. I slammed a hand onto the counter and hurdled myself over the checkout desk. I made a fist and punched through a glass display case. Sharp edges raked my skin and drew blood. I ignored the twinges of pain and grabbed my prize.

I turned to face my attacker. He was right in front of me. His dark eyes intent, and he had a gun pulled halfway out of his jacket holster. A supernatural monster-man who used a gun?

I didn't hesitate. My grip tightened on the heavy aluminum bat in the display case. And I swung. I swung the bat, and with it the glass casing against my attacker's head. The glass shattered across his face before the bat even touched him. Chips of glass raked his cheek and one piece nipped the white of his right eye. The bat followed through, driving the glass shards deeper into his skin, before the mass of the bat itself struck across his right ear and cheek bone. The heavy metal made his face cave in around the cylinder shaped weapon. I heard the crack of hard bone and saw dusted glass fall from his hair. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. In his pain and surprise, my attacker discharge his weapon. The weapon that was pointed at himself. 

Then my world seemed to speed up and I watched him in real motion crumple to the ground. His left side smashed into the ground, with the combined force of gravity and my strike. There was a snap, and when I glanced down at his corpse, the neck seemed to be angling the head impossibly. Red was soaking his shirt, and pooling around his body.

I looked up, checking both directions, panting. I leapt out of the gift shop, still clutching my baseball bat. 

I looked around. People in line for greasy food were still frozen unmoving. Whoever had done this was not dead yet.

" _Pogoditi_."

I felt something sweep my feet from out under me, and fling me against the nearest wall. I kept hold of the aluminum bat. If I lost it, everything was over. 

I raised my head to glance at the magical mastermind. He was about seven feet away with his left arm extended and fingers spread. His pose looked like something out of comic books, his attire on the other hand, did not. He was slightly taller than average height and wore a large black hoodie that sank to mid-thigh. His pants were old and worn black jeans that had turned grey with age. His hair was greasy and greying blond. His cheekbones were sharp, and his face long and angular. He looked like someone's deadbeat druggie dad.

"My employer is worried about a young upstart like yourself taking control of a crossroads city. And worse, learning of our world. He's sent me here to eliminate you." The man stalked closer. His hand extended, as if keeping me in place.

He was overly pompous and proud. Attributes these magical-folks all seemed to have in common. I figured keeping him talking would be my best bet at surviving this. "Are you sure you don't want to work for me?"

The man threw back his head and laughed. The noise reverberated around the spacious hallway. I tried to move, but found an invisible force was holding me down. How distressing. When the man stopped laughing I asked him something else. "Are you going to 'magic' me to death?" 

The man stopped and smiled. "Oh no," he chuckled. "No, that would make the White Council on my backs. Do you have any idea what they did to that teenager you were so intently watching in the bleachers? It would make your skin curl. I'm not going to live like that -constantly looking over my shoulder for bloodthirsty cops. No," he drew a gun from somewhere on his person. "No, I'm not going to kill you with magic. This little gun should do the trick nicely."

I tried to move again, to no avail. He pointed it at my head and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.

"You've been fucking with time, you dip-shit. They'll be after you anyways. I called them. They're on their way here, right now." I looked away from the man, and saw Dresden holding a mutilated hotdog in his outstretched hand. "You might as well throw the gun away. I melted the hammer when you were laughing like a psycho. I'm surprised you didn't notice. I'm not that great with control."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the gun hit the ground.

"Hey kid-o. You don't have to do this. I can take you on as an apprentice. Teach you things. If you let me go, I'll make sure the Council never finds you. My employer can make it so that you can be free." The man relaxed and beckoned towards Dresden. "I don't want to hurt you kid-o. I just am doing my job. You can come with me if you want."

"Mrs. Murphy says I'm not allowed to talk to strangers."

"My name is Nikola," the man replied. "There. Now we know each other."

Dresden visibly brightened and smiled. The man, Nikola smiled back in reply. My back stiffened. 

"You're so fucked," grinned Dresden. "That's hilarious. I'm not going to join an amateur like you. Ever. And now I know your name."

Nikola's smile dropped. "What?"

Dresden continued, sounding as pleased as a cat who'd cornered a mouse. "You may have a lot of talent. Especially when it comes to time control. But you've over exerted yourself. How many people are you freezing? More than a thousand, at least. And -what- you've held it maybe two and a half minutes. You must have a natural talent, because otherwise no one could have held a whole stadium this long. And it is taking a toll. I see you sweating quite a bit. Your posture is slouched. Are you even aware of your limits?"

Nikola was visibly panting now. "You little ungrateful shit. I don't care if they all see. I'm going to choke the life out of you, no magic required, with or without the crowd."

And just like that, time unfroze. There was a scream as someone noticed the corpse by the gift shop. The screams spread throughout the crowd. 

Nikola spoke softly. "And I won't even have to deal with Marcone. He's got the murder weapon, with his blood and fingerprints all over." Nikola smiled.

Dresden smiled back, "And I was just waiting for you to say that." Dresden's smile stretched insanely as he held up his mutilated hotdog. He sucked in a deep breath. "Ooohhhh. Ni~ko~la-" He enunciated the man's name with mock concern. "You're a magic practitioner. You should know better than to leave blood lying around."

Nikola froze. "No. You couldn't have noticed."

"Justin taught me to be aware of my surroundings. Any decent enforcer would recognize a practitioner in close proximity." Dresden looked at the mutilated hotdog. "I guess you should know, that's not all ketchup."

And then it hit me. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. I didn't know anything about magic, except the fake witchcraft that was shown on tv. Even still, I understood. When I'd sliced my first attacker, time had temporarily been unfrozen. I must have nicked the practitioner in the process. I'd lost the knife. There hadn't been time to pollute the sample with more cuts. Dresden's comment about the ketchup. What was on the hotdog wasn't ketchup - it was blood.

"I've got a connection to you now. The best kind." Dresden hissed, "Voodoo. And it is still wet." Dresden started playing with the hotdog, and Nikola mimicked it's movements. He had no choice. Nikola picked up the baseball bat from my hand and turned toward the corpse. 

He was yelling now. "No! Stop. It's not me! I didn't do this. Stop! Stopppp!" All the while, he was smashing the bat into the corpse's face. He sounded crazy, which I guess was the point.

I looked back at Dresden. The grotesque smile was back. And then there was a gleam in his eyes, a dark pulse of electricity, and he positioned his hand to tear off the top of the hotdog. 

It sounded ridiculous, but I'd never been more terrified of a hotdog in my life. 

Just as the insane boy was about to rip off the top of the hotdog, and thus consequently, the top of Nikola's head, a set of strong hands seized Dresden's hands and shook them. The hotdog felt to the ground. The connection severed.

It was the strong family man from the bleachers. 

He grabbed Harry and hugged him tight. The teen growled and tried to fight. Eventually he limply gave up and started shaking violently in the family man's arms. "Michael, I didn't mean to," the voice sounded like a half sob. "I don't know what is wrong with me." He muttered a few more things softer, but I was out of earshot. 

The man glanced at me. "Mr. Marcone, isn't it time you got going?"

I heard my name and seemed to snap out of whatever undignified trance I was in. First I walked by Dresden. "Thank you for possibly saving my life." There was a noncommittal grunt, which I took as a reply. Then, I walked back into the crowd. No one paid much attention to me. They were all looking at Nikola, whom they'd seen bash in a corpse's head. Not to many questions would be asked. I saw a few security personnel make their way towards the corpse.

As I left, I also noticed several figures headed in the same direction, wearing grey cloaks.


	5. Chapter 05

Lieutenant Murphy had lost her job as head of her department. A young detective from S.I. had been ratting her out to her superiors for the past few months. She hadn't done anything immoral or unethical. A few high priority cases that weren't reviewed quick enough, a few conveniently lost important documents, and a few too many sporadic early and late clock-outs -probably the result of her live-in ward. Her superiors hadn't liked her, and had finally cumulated enough dirty information to demote her. 

I hadn't lifted a finger. Her demotion was completely police politics. Somewhere in her career she, or someone who cared about her deeply, had pissed off the wrong people. At the moment, I didn't know who. 

I was currently more focused on my arriving guest. No sooner did I speak of the devil, did he appear. 

Dresden strode in with all the confidence of a teenager deluded by typical illusions of the immortality of youth. Or maybe his confidence was simply fueled by stupidity. Given his personality, it was a coin flip between the first and the second. Nevertheless, he had come to me. I kept my face neutral and waited for him to settle down.

He paced back and forth for a few long seconds before chancing a look at me. I could basically feel Hendrick's irritation radiating off of him. Harry paced back and forth twice more, before coming to a stop.

"I knew I recognized your name somewhere," Dresden shot accusingly. "Murphy used your name a few times, but I never made the connection until after the ball game."

He knew what I did, who I controlled, and the things I was capable of. It was why he was here.

"Murphy lost her job. It is my fault." His fists clenched beneath his oversized coat. "I'm willing to work it off." Even though he was perfectly capable, he couldn't seem to make eye contact with me. "You said something about a consulting position."

"I did." My tone didn't convey any emotion one way or another. "That position is still open to you, if you choose to take it."

His resolve seemed to strengthen and the bold teen from the Burger King came back. He didn't look uncertain any longer. He looked me straight in my eyes. "I'll make my own hours," he said. "And I don't want Mrs. Murphy to know. She'd never forgive herself if she knew." His face twisted, "She doesn't like corruption. She doesn't want to be a dirty cop."

I didn't mention that if she ever found out about what Dresden was about to do, the result would be the same. "I will use my connections to restore the Lieutenant's job, and in exchange, you will act as my supernatural consultant," I supplied.

"My availability is an issue," he paused and fiddled with his jacket pocket. To his credit, he never looked away. "I also have baggage. My baggage may come visit me from time to time, and prevent me from working." He took a moment before continuing, "You know that already."

He was keener than I expected. "That is perfectly fine. I will do my best to accommodate your 'baggage'." I could only assume he spoke of the White Council. The supernatural police Nikola had spoke of before he'd lost control. The grey-coats I believed to have seen while leaving the stadium. If his 'baggage' included anything else, I'd have to accommodate it. Wizards didn't necessarily advertise in the yellow pages these days. 

I had only recently acquired power in the Chicago area. I didn't yet have the connections older bosses tended to accumulate over time. A supernatural consultant wasn't something that was easily acquired in any circumstance. 

"I'll have the paperwork written up. When will you be able to sign it?"

"I'll have to read it first."

"Of course."

"You'll be able to find me at Burger King."

"I'll be paying you enough, you won't have to work there."

His eyes flashed. "That isn't the problem." He ground his teeth and spoke, "Let me make one thing clear. I'm not doing this for money or for myself. I'm doing this because Mrs. Murphy is good people, and she didn't deserve what happened to her. She was late because of me, and if there was an opportunity to fix my mistake, I'd gladly pay the price. You just happened to be the opportunity."

"Once you've signed, I'll make sure she is reinstated."

He looked angry and nervous. 

For extra measure, I added, "It will be subtle. She won't know I had anything to do with this." I watched him relax a bit, but the noticeable tension was still there. "Mr. Hendricks will show you out. I look forward to working with you Mr. Dresden."

"I can't say the same," he muttered under his breath.


	6. Chapter 06

Dresden saw me walk into his workplace, and immediately turned to pluck a cup off of the stack. "Coffee today. Black?" It wasn't so much of a question, as show for his coworkers. 

After Dresden signed my paperwork, I'd become a regular. Every Monday, I'd come in -shadowed by Hendricks-, ask for the least disgusting item on the menu, and appear to make light conversation. I'd sit down and sip my coffee until my newest-consultant had a fifteen minute break. Usually fifteen minutes was enough. On other days, like today, I anticipated I would need slightly longer.

I saw Lydia take over Dresden's job at the cash register, and he paced out into the eating area. He slid into the booth across from Hendricks and I, his brows knitted and his face twisted in grim disgust. Considering he always wore that same expression around me, I didn't take offense to it. I was slowly growing accustomed to his unbridled rudeness. 

I immediately cut to the chase, "What have you heard of Three-Eye?" 

The question seemed to startle Dresden. His eyes widened and his disgruntled expression seemed to fade into actual surprise. "I agreed to help you as a supernatural consultant. I didn't sign on to get you the inside scoop on the CPD. In fact, I think there is a clause in my contract that specifically mentions not being your freaking ~spy."

I looked at him blankly for a second.

"What?" He growled.

"You actually think that I want you to get information from the CPD?" I sighed, "Mr. Dresden, I have people who can do that for me already, I wouldn't waste you're expertise on something so petty. You're far too valuable for that."

He twitched. 

I pretended to ignore it, and continued, "I assure you the drug is quite real, and I have reason to believe it is not simply the work of a common dealer." I made sure he was listening before speaking. "The drug analysis from the police came back. With the exception of absinthe and peyote, none of the components could have possibly caused the side effects."

"What is in it?"

"Absinthe, ammonia, peyote, alum, glitter-"

"Glitter?"

"And a few other minor ingredients. -And they are in so small an amount, consumption shouldn't be producing such strong side effects."

"You said 'other ingredients'. How many total?" 

"Eight."

Dresden leaned back in his booth, a smile etched on his face. "Ah," he muttered. "Now I understand why you came to me." He leaned back down, elbows on the table, chin rested on the back of his knuckles. "It's a potion. Eight parts -Absinthe which appears to be the liquid base. Peyote to engage the spirits, glitter for sight, ammonia for smell, and alum - well, alum is a little tricky. Maybe touch." He seemed lost in thought for a few seconds. "With those ingredients, it can't be anything good."

"What am I dealing with Mr. Dresden?" I asked seriously.

"At least a sorcerer. Maybe a warlock." He met my eyes unafraid of triggering a soulgaze. "At best, he or she's working alone. He could be working for the same gangster who hired Nikola."

I nodded.

"The absolute worst situation," grumbled Dresden, "Is if he or she is just the apprentice of another warlock."

"Elaborate." The topic clearly made him uncomfortable, but I wasn't going to pass up such an ample opportunity to get information out of my consultant.

"Hypothetically, if the sorcerer worked alone, then he or she-screw the pronouns-," he spat, "Hypothetically, if the sorcerer worked alone, then he might not have any formal training. Talent with no experience can be overcome. If he is working for Nikola's boss -assuming Nikola's boss was vanilla- then a mortal man is controlling this. Humans are predictable, and while they can do heinous things, they generally have some sliver of humanity which prevents them from being complete monsters." Dresden breathed out, and checked the time on the wall. Disgruntled that his break wasn't over, he began to finish. "If he is working for a Warlock, then he has formal training, he has direction in his methods - which can be disguised-, and if the relationship is an apprenticeship he may be willing to blindly sacrifice himself for the sake of his master." Dresden spat the last words out as if they were laced with poison. "We may cut off the arm of the beast, but the brain and body would still pose a threat. The master could raise up other apprentices to invade your interests."

I couldn't help but notice he used the word 'raise' instead of 'trained'. It left a copper feeling in my mouth. Like most everything else, I didn't let it show. Instead I followed with another question. "Why is the warlock targeting me, and how do I stop him?"

"In all three cases," Dresden mused, "Territory."

I urged him to continue.

"Warlocks are territorial, like dogs. Those you find in the same relative area tend to have an apprentice-master connection or a familial tie. If there are other black practitioners in the area, the warlock tends to be aware of them and they tend to be very minor talents. No real threat. Or that is my theory on it anyways." He moved his fingers against the table. Clearly a nervous tick, of sorts. "As you probably know, the White Council doesn't have that strong a presence here. And the wardens who are here, are here to watch me. It is the perfect opportunity."

I mentally listed another organization I would have to rid from the Chicago area. Their presence would inhibit my consultant's ability to work. I wouldn't have that.

"They have two options. One - blame the black magic activity on me - the only resident with the capability to pull it off. Two - ignore my presence in the territorial take over because of my age and relative experience. Most likely the second. Since I keep a regular schedule of Burger King-to-home, it is almost impossible to pin on me. Even the wardens aren't dumb enough to be fooled by that low level trickery. They also wouldn't want to warrant my attention, and thus the council's."

"You haven't answered my second question. How do I stop him."

"Easy," the teen replied, "Like any other scumbag, you do detective work, find out where they operate, and shut them down." 

"The 'shut them down' aspect needs a little fleshing out, care to elaborate."

"Once you find him, I run interference, while you put a fucking bullet in his head. That will teach the lot of them to stay away from my city."

I felt Hendricks stiffen beside me.

Looking at his face and listening to his voice, I thought 'territorial' might have been the perfect word choice. If Dresden, someone who'd only had a taste of black magic, reacted so violently to intrusion, I could only imagine the reaction of a warlock who practiced on a day-to-day basis. 

Dresden looked back at the clock. "My time is up." He slid out of the booth, and walked back into the kitchen, as if nothing had ever occurred.


	7. Chapter 07

When I came into the Burger King Monday morning, I was met with a surprise - and not the happy kind. 

After a week of spreading my feelers into Chicago's community, with little to show for it, I had expected to bring Harry into my business to a much larger extent than his contract necessitated. As I opened the door, and went to stand in line for my coffee, I couldn't help but notice a large battle-hardened man sitting in my usual spot. A large golf bag rested against the side of his booth, and his eyes were locked dead on Dresden. 

Dresden seemed to notice this attention, and was doing his best to hide -what I could only assume was terror- with the belligerence of rebellious youth and blatant defiance. Normally I'd avoid employing those with severe personality contradictions, but I desperately needed a magical advisor. 

I walked up to the register to order my usual, shadowed by Hendricks. "Seems you have a guest Mr. Dresden."

The teen replied with something between a scoff and a growl. Then he leaned in a little closer to me, and spoke in a low voice, "Seriously, don't interfere with my personal business. You could ~" his fingers drummed across the register as he waited for the word to come to him, "~complicate things."

I passed him a five dollar bill. I'd learned early on that Harry Dresden did more than void warranties, his anti-tech bubble voided my credit cards. "I'd really hoped we could talk today. Is this going to be an issue?"

Dresden stared daggers over my shoulder. He dipped his head low so the man in the booth could not see his lips move. "Maybe." He paused momentarily. "I'll stop by at the place where I agreed to work for you." He added as an afterthought, "Later."

"Agreed," I said softly in reply.

Dresden proceeded to use the automatic coffee machine. His bad mood seemed to impact electronics more than usual, and I swore I saw a few sparks jump from the machine. He gave me my coffee, and passed Hendricks his. We took the drinks back to a small table in the center of the fast food joint. I took a sip, and it scalded my tongue. "You don't want to drink that," I grumbled to Hendricks, "It is worse than usual. I don't know how but it somehow tastes like burnt charcoal."

I watched Susan force Dresden away from the register to go on break. He seemed to playfully pout at her, joking that he didn't actually need a break, all the while his eyes darted warily back at the man in the booth.

He emerged from behind the counter, and snagged a medium sized cup off the stack. He filled his cup to the rim with Coke, snapped a top on it, poked in a plastic straw, and proceeded to sit as far away from the man as humanly possible. 

The man's gaze followed him. Then the man stood up, grabbed his golf bag, and walked over to Dresden's table to join him. The way the bag moved ~ I was sure it didn't contain golf clubs.

Dresden continued to sip Coke through his straw, complete with loud slurping noises. 

The man snatched the cup away from Dresden in annoyance. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't take you in now?" he spat through clenched teeth. "I know it was you."

Dresden looked up at him but didn't meet the man's eyes. "Nice to see you too Morgan. I'm glad to see that the ways of the world haven't chipped away at your stunning example of moral character and darling personality."

The man, Morgan smiled wolfishly, "It seems the Council's resident warlock can't stay out of trouble. It surprises me, how I can take a single week reprieve, and all of a sudden, the lowest excuse for black-magic-scum manages to royally muck things up."

"Well, Morgan, it just so happens that I haven't actually -, " Dresden raised his hands and quoted the air, "Royally mucked anything up." Dresden leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and posture angry. "I keep a schedule now. I work here all day, Mrs. Murphy picks me up and drives me back to her place. If I'm awake enough I'll work a little magic to keep in shape." He leaned forward to the point where he was staring down Morgan. "You're looking at the wrong guy."

Morgan leaned forward to match Dresden. "Really," he murmured. "One killing of Jennifer Stanton. Thaumaturgy. Hmmm... I wonder who that sounds like?" A serious frown spread over Morgan's lips. "There aren't many people strong enough to flat out kill someone with a thaumaturgical link. That takes a lot of power. More power than the average magus has access to. And only one suspect is strong enough and stupid enough to attempt it."

A silence followed, as I watched the conversation out of the corner of my eye. I sipped my aweful coffee slowly, never letting my attention waver from the scene.

Dresden looked visibly afraid now. 

"What?" he half-choked. "Murdered? I thought this was about drugs. There's been a murder? There's a warlock running around killing people now?" His eyes glazed over as he seemed to process this. 

Then his mouth hung ajar and his features slackened as realization dawned on him. "You think I did it?" He started to visibly panic. His hands were raised in a pleading, defensive motion. "Morgan, you've got to believe me. I have nothing to do with the killings. I've never met this Jennifer person before in my life. The only thing real bit of magic I've used was against that guy from the stadium! The other wardens know what happened! I haven't done anything."

"You're lies aren't going to get you out of justice this time." Morgan rose from his chair. "Come with me, I'd rather not forcibly restrain you. I'll call the Council, and you'll get your just due."

"Morgan! Please rethink this. It couldn't have been me! I was working. Ask Susan!" 

"I didn't even say what time the murder occurred," Morgan tisked.

"What? -No. Morgan, I work practically all the time. Just ask Susan! Or anyone!"

I'd never imagined this kind of behavior from the psuedo employee who gave me so much lip. It almost seemed like he was pleading for his life. Maybe he was. 

Morgan grabbed Dresden's arm, applied some pressure point, and started leading him towards the door. The teen pulled away, but couldn't break the grip. 

"Morgan! Come on! Stop."

I was about ten seconds away from involving myself. 

And then Lieutenant Murphy walked in. 

Badge in hand, she blocked Morgan's path. "Police." She looked at Morgan's hand clenched tightly around Dresden's. "Sir, just what do you think you're doing? You are aware that abducting a minor is a serious offense. And I will uphold the law I'm sworn to protect." Her blue eyes narrowed as she surveyed the situation. Her eyes flicked up to meet Morgan's, "No matter 'who' you are." 

I noticed Morgan quickly break eye contact and look past the Lieutenant. He inclined his head towards Lieutenant Murphy. "Ma'am, under the circumstances, by which I'm sure you're aware; I'm taking Dresden into custody." Morgan's voice was very polite and was heavy with respect. Based on his earlier behavior, one would think such etiquette was impossible from the man. "As you understand, I can't just let the injustices of criminals go unpunished." Then he spoke directly towards her, in an almost sincere fashion, "I cannot allow him to harm anyone else."

The Lieutenant did not move. She did not flinch, nor did she look away. 

"I just got back from the murder scene of Jennifer Stanton. The murder occurred last night at midnight. I can confirm Harry's whereabouts at that time. I can also confirm his whereabouts for 5 hours prior. As I understand it, these 'things' occur in real time, and thusly, it is not possible for him to have killed the victim." 

Morgan's grip on Dresden did not loosen. 

Through pursed lips the Lieutenant recounted, "I picked him up from work at seven. I was out of groceries, so I drove for about thirty minutes to a grocery store near my house. We picked up enough food for the week. During which Harry never left my side. You see he always keeps one hand on the cart."

I put my coffee down, and looked at Dresden. His facial expression was that of a kid who had just heard his mother tell all the other moms an embarrassing fun fact. Horrified. For a moment he seemed to have forgotten the seriousness of the situation.

The Lieutenant continued. "We had to go back for several items. Detective work doesn't make for a good shopper. So we checked out at around nine. Sunday is cooking night, and we made chicken parmesan from scratch and threw together a salad. The timer for the chicken dinged around ten, then we ate. We tried piecing together a puzzle and talked about work. I got around to sleeping near one or two in the morning." She breathed out slowly. "Is there anything else you need to know before you arrest an innocent kid?"

Morgan visibly twitched at her utterance of the word 'innocent', and turned to glare at Dresden. He whirled back and set his eyes on Murphy. "I need to know if you've been compelled to believe those memories, to know if they are in fact real."

The Lieutenant, who had maintained control of the situation, looked slightly taken aback. "Excuse me."

"In order to verify your story, I must know that no mental tampering occurred." He turned to Dresden, pulled out a set of oddly barbed cuffs and put them on the teen. 

Dresden yelped a little in surprise, and fell on the floor.

"I can't have you attacking me while my back is turned." He looked towards the Lieutenant, who did not seem pleased. "Ma'am please stand against that wall." 

She complied.

"Thank you."

I couldn't see what Morgan was doing from where I was sitting, but I was sure it was something magical. I glanced at Hendricks, whose poker face couldn't hide his stern mood. Everything about this situation seemed to bother him. His morals were much better than mine.

"Well," said Morgan, sounding slightly awed. "That wasn't a sight I'd mind remembering."

"Excuse me?" growled Lieutenant Murphy. 

"You haven't been tampered with mentally. And with Dresden's reckless use of magic, I know illusions are beyond him." He turned and squatted to where Dresden had fallen, and roughly removed the manacles wound around his wrists. He leaned in close and spoke full of ferocity, "You're off the hook now. This woman who came to save you is a good person. Better than something like you deserves. If you ruin her life or hurt her in any way, I will personally hold you responsible. The Council will not loose a lick of sleep over getting rid of a monster like you."

The Lieutenant had walked around, grabbed Dresden's shaking hand, and pulled him to his feet. "Harry, here are the keys," she pressed the metal bit into his hand. "Get in the car, I'll meet you there in a second."

I saw Morgan purse his lips. He clearly didn't like the idea of Dresden running around unsupervised, even if it was only for a short amount of time.

Then she whirled on me. "Marcone. I didn't expect to see you here. I can put the pieces together though." She glared at me. "I don't want you talking to Harry at all. He is not going to be used by you. And he is in enough trouble as it is. Do not make it worse."


	8. Chapter 08

After the display at the Burger King, I was surprised Dresden managed to meet me at the agreed upon location. The only reasonable explanation I could come up with was: teenagers will be teenagers. 

He seemed to read the silence intuitively. "I'm here because I said I would be." He looked over his shoulder at Hendricks accusingly. "I want this fucker caught, probably more than you do. If only to see the look on Morgan's face."

"My men can't find anything on this guy. Unless you have a plan?" I prompted. 

Dresden smiled. "You're not going to like it," He chuckled.

"Let me be the judge of that." I spread my hands wide, and leaned back in my chair. "Please Mr. Dresden, enlighten us."

"Well, whoever he is," Dresden said in a sing-songy voice, "He is clearly after you. More specifically your business." 

I didn't like where this was going.

"We'll use you to lure him out."

Hendricks looked ready to protest that course of action. 

"This type of magic," continued Dresden, "Is thaumaturgy. He's killing from afar by using links. He has some part of the victim, and uses it to create a connection, then channel energy to kill them." He looked at my eyes without fear of a soulgaze. "Then comes the fun part. I know there is someone in your organization ratting you out. The warlock wouldn't have such an edge on you otherwise. He wouldn't be able to stay completely hidden. We give him the opportunity he needs to please his master, and take you out. The traitor needs to have easy access to either your hair or blood. Hair would be safer. Blood is dangerous."

Dresden looked back at Hendricks, who looked very unhappy with this turn of events. "I knew you wouldn't like it." He turned back towards me. "Well, that is the only thing you can do to draw him out. I assume you've already checked all the pet stores around town."

Silence.

"You didn't check the pet stores? Seriously, I would have thought you'd investigate the murder? You know, warlock, murder? They go together like sprinkles and icecream. Didn't it occur to you to-," He let his face fall into his hands. Exasperated, he leaned his head back, pinching the ridge between his eyes. "I keep forgetting you know nothing about magic." He laughed and shrugged it off. "Okay. He is creating a link with his victim. The victim's heart is ripped out. How do you think he did that?"

"Magic."

"No. Well, yes, but more specifically-," He groaned. "It doesn't work like that. You've got to DO something." He stuttered around trying to explain it. "The link is made with an animal, probably something small that doesn't fight back. Then, whatever you do to the animal, happens to the person it is linked to. Killing someone is incredibly difficult. You want to illuminate any abstraction, so you use something living."

I carefully didn't comment on how a seventeen year old boy knew so much about how to magically kill people.

"So check the pet shops, see if someone stopped by recently and bought a small animal. Probably not a mouse, they're too small. Maybe a rabbit or large guinea pig. Maybe narrow it down by asking if the person was acting strange, or didn't buy any bunny food to feed his new pet."

That actually wasn't a bad idea. And this was coming from the boy who couldn't grasp the concept of being polite to save his life.

"You're probably going to still have to take one for the team though. I mean, you still have a traitor keeping tabs on you. Also, you probably don't want the traitor finding out you're checking out the local and non-local pet-co's." He thought for a moment. "You're going to need me," he muttered. "If he can kill someone and produce third eye, then he can most likely make a shield. Bullets aren't going to be enough." He pointed at me. "Besides, if your men fuck up and can't grab the traitor, you're going to need me to clean up your problem, otherwise," he clapped his hands together loudly, "Splat. No more Marcone. And Mrs. Murphy is going to have a hard time cleaning you out of the carpet."

It took control to not react to the juvenile taunt. Lesser men had died for lesser infractions against me. The fact that he said it while smiling, and spoke about the warlock like a kid on christmas, disturbed me. I doubted even the Lieutenant knew what she'd gotten into when she took the teen under her wing.

"How do you suggest we stage this?"

"Something public, where most of your men will be present." He thought about it momentarily. "You've got scandalous clubs right? And they have pretty women dancers right? I heard Mrs. Murphy talking about them. Pick one that is downright dirty! -Not for me of course. But it would be a good cover. Your traitor would never suspect it." 

He was thinking about sex at a time like this? We just came up with a plan to murder a man that could get us killed in the process, and he was already thinking about women a few seconds later. I remember adolescence, but I don't remember it being this bad. Regardless of my views on what minors should and should not be exposed to, I conceded. Keeping Chicago's street safe and mine took priority over protecting the teenagers from indecency.


	9. Chapter 09

Today was the day, and Dresden had not shown up at the agreed upon location. A few calls later I found out that he had not shown up at work at all. To make matters worse, the Lieutenant was working up a frenzy. 

His caretaker didn't know where he was.  
His boss didn't know where he was.  
And I, kingpin of the Chicago underworld to put it ever-so dramatically, didn't know where he was.

It seamed my traitor had somehow managed to get one step ahead of me. Or at least, provided the means for the warlock to get one step ahead of me. However, the traitor's action had limited my pool of suspects further. While most of my men were aware of tonight's events, only a select few had seen me around Dresden, and of those, only fewer had orders not to cause too much ruckus in the resulting fallout of tonight. Our plan was out the window now, but I had a good idea of who the traitor was.

Double doors opened. Dresden's young and lanky silhouette was outlined by the dark sky pouring rain.

He looked directly at my suspicious traitor. I felt a smug satisfaction wash over me. Ah, so it was him.

"Gimpy," Dresden seethed. 

Lightning flashed behind him illuminating the city street. And when the blinding flash dimmed, the building bulbs began to flicker, before shattering left and right. With the exception of a few lucky bulbs, darkness encompassed most of the club. 

"Gentlemen, it seems, due to unexpected circumstances, we'll be closing early tonight."

My voice seemed to shock Dresden to the reality that we were not alone. His posture became less aggressive, and he moved aside to let my employees and customers through. 

Dresden and I had our eyes locked on Lawrence. The man, whom Dresden had termed 'Gimpy'.

"Lawrence, who were you working for? I can pay you far more than they ever could." I knew my employees well, and I knew this particular employee loved money, and money was probably the only way to sway him back with least resistance.

The man shivered and started trying to get out of his predicament. "Boss. Don't believe this kid. Look at him, he's nuts. Completely nuts." 

Dresden took one step closer. "Is that fucker one of yours? He has something of mine."

"I don't. I swear boss. He's lying." Lawrence looked whiter than a bed sheet.

"I scratched him. Check his wrist. I tracked him all the way here using his blood." There was a smooth bit of self-content in Dresden's voice. Pride.

"This is simple enough to prove. Lawrence, roll up your sleeve, and let this all be sorted out." Oh, I could see guilt and fear in his eyes. I had no doubt he would protest. 

"Boss, you can't believe him over me!"

"Just show us your wrists. It seems a harmless enough request."

And that is when I lost control of the situation. Lawrence pulled out a gun. Hendricks pushed be down and back out of the way, as he drew his. I reached for mine. I drew before Hendricks had even taken aim. I couldn't shoot. Lawrence had startled Dresden, who'd probably never seen members of the Outfit in action, and taken him captive. Lawrence's gun was pointed at Dresden's head, and the other arm was wrapped around the teen's neck in a choke hold. It looked tight. Dresden's wide eyes were looking at the place where he felt the gun muzzle pushed against his head. His hands looked like they had frozen trying to claw his way out of the choke hold. 

Lawrence didn't take his eyes off of me, yet managed to keep his head safely behind Dresden's. The man had worked for me long enough to know my accuracy with a gun. Lawrence backed up towards the door. "I'm leaving now," Lawrence narrated. Dresden stumbled backwards with him. Apparently his history of warlocks and the supernatural failed to teach him the basics of guns and the violence of desperate human beings. "Come on kid," Lawrence edged the teen on, "I'm not goin' to hurt 'cha unless you do anything stupid." He stepped out into the cold rain. I barely heard what he whispered next, "And if you're really good, I might convince HIM to let you live.

And with that, my one opportunity to find my business competitor, my supernatural consultant, and the rest of my night walked right out the front door, and just out of my grasp.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. At this point all my accounts for this story are updated.  
> I'll try to update them all at the same time from now on...

I waisted no time. I had no idea if Lawrence's phone could withstand Dresden's anti-magic bubble - especially when emotionally agitated. Knowing Lawrence had been working in close proximity to a warlock, I had no idea if the phone was even alive any longer.

I pulled out my blackberry, and turned it on. I had turned it off before entering the club, because I was expecting Dresden's company. The start up screen came on and I dialed a number I had memorized. 

One of my secretaries answered it before the first ring ended. 

"I need GPS tracking on one of my employees." I rattled off Lawrence's name and number quickly. 

"Right away Mr. Marcone."

While waiting on her response, I got up, grabbed some things from a hidden armory in the back of the club. Hendricks helped me, and kept an eye out for any unwanted spectators. 

I heard my secretary come back to the phone. "Mr. Marcone, there is something wrong with the GPS. The phone you've asked me to track is bouncing all over the map."

I adjusted the phone to fit between my ear and shoulder, freeing my hands. "I was afraid that might happen. Can you look at just the coordinates?"

I heard quick typing in the background. "Alright."

"Now," I guided her, "You should see two sets of numbers, longitude and latitude." I hoped this would work, I couldn't afford for the warlock to get away and secure my magical consultant. "You should see six sets of numbers total. I want you to focus on the last two sets of numbers of both longitude and latitude. Do you see any pattern? Is there any number they're toggling around."

Silence on the other end. A matter of seconds later, she responded. "Yes, I saw a pattern. I manually plugged in the new set of numbers, with reference to where Chicago is officially. I can't be sure, but the phone seems to be on the highway, headed in the direction of Lake Providence."

If my secretary could tell where Lawrence was headed, then wherever he was going, he was driving fast. "Call me if the numbers stabilize." I opened the car door, threw in my weapons , and hit 'end' before tucking my phone away. I gave Hendricks instructions, and he started driving quickly.

My secretary called to give me updates, and confirm we were headed in the right direction. I was roused from deep thought by Hendricks, "A warlock. We have no idea how to fight one."

I didn't say anything for a while. "I have a vague idea of what to expect," I replied, remembering my soulgaze with Dresden. "Nothing good. We can't just attack straight up. We've got to be a little more indirect. We need a distraction." I whipped out my phone and started calling backup and issuing instructions. 

I hung up and looked at Hendricks. "Three Eye goes down tonight. It won't hit the streets again."

Our continued silence was interrupted by my phone ringing unexpectedly. I looked at the number. It was one I didn't recognize. Given current circumstances, I was inclined to answer. 

I didn't even have time for a standard greeting. The person on the other line was already verbally attacking me, veiled through professionalism. It was Lieutenant Murphy. 

"Lieutenant Murphy," I greeted. 

Hendricks glanced back at me through the rear-view mirror, a surprised look on his face.

I continued, "A pleasure talking to one of Chicago's finest. How may I help you?"

"You know what this is about Marcone. I know you were hanging around with him. He is missing now. I'm getting reports from people at the Varsity talking about a teenager matching his description. I even got one report that there was a kidnapping." She paused for a breath, but didn't relent, "Where is my kid?" The last bit sounded like a desperate plea mixed with anger and disgust - the later two directed at me.

It never hurt to have more backup. "I'm trying to get him back now. It seems he entered my club, and was subsequently kidnapped."

"Where are you? He better not be hurt."

"Like I said, he was kidnapped, and I'm in the process of trying to get him back. I'm tracking the kidnapper's GPS as long as I can, but it is glitching badly. Currently the kidnapper is predicted to be heading towards the Lake Providence area." I heard the familiar sound, signaling I had a second call. "I'm sorry, I'll have to let you go Lieutenant. I have a call waiting that may prove to be necessary in finding Dresden." I hung up, and answered my other call. 

My secretary spoke, "The phone's GPS was relaying even stranger numbers, then it died completely. I can give you the last predicted area. It is located in a heavily wooded area, so with luck there will be a noticeable trail if he took his vehicle off road -especially with the stormy weather we've had these past couple of days."

My secretary relayed the exact location, and I in turn told Hendricks.


	11. Chapter 11

Backup hadn't arrived yet, but I wasn't concerned -they would soon. I didn't need them for what I was going to do now, and more importantly, the last thing I wanted was for my men to get slaughtered, improperly combatting a foe who was beyond their comprehension. I pulled on a coat, opened the car door, and moved forward into the rain, with Hendricks shadowing my movements.

I saw a yellow taxi cab slicked and sprayed with dark mud. The driver's head leaned against the window, centered around cracked glass. Through the cracks, rain was beginning to leak in and trickle down to mix with thick tracks of blood. The rain was heavy enough to cover our tracks, I wouldn't get blamed for this murder.

The rain cut visibility, but I surveyed the area, and located a small discontinuity within the wall of trees. I motioned to Hendricks and we cautiously yet quickly approached the path. The wind howled an eerie, shattered, cry as it cascaded through the hollow area between the trees. 

The path opened up to a two story lake house. I saw it and felt gooseflesh bristle the skin. The house physically appeared as a comfortable vacation home - however, it felt entirely different. It wasn't a feeling I could explain nor analyze. I figured the ambiance this place emanated encouraged dark magic.

I looked threw the visible windows and did not see any indication of people. A quick headshot out of the question, I figured I'd have to approach this situation the hard way. 

"We're going in through one of the doors. You keep your eyes on the back. I don't need one of his men getting the drop on us."

Hendricks nodded and cast a weary eye behind us. 

I slipped on a pair of gloves on and grabbed the gun I kept at my side. Cautiously I reached out to try the doorknob. It was unlocked and swung open silently. I shrugged off my coat and let it slip quietly to the ground beside me in a wet lump. It was bulky, soaked with rain, and the noise it made would probably inhibit our rescue operation if I kept it. 

We moved into the house. Glass jars littered the shelves to varying degrees. An otherworldly greenish fluid, Three Eye, filled them. 

Empty bottles of absinthe splayed out of garbage bags thrown against the far wall. Bags of golden glitter littered the counter and a white substance bought in bulk was shaped into blocks for distribution. A flash of lightning outside illuminated the room, and I saw a few more items of interest. The brief flash of light was enough to confirm my suspicions. The room was littered with remains of Three Eye's ingredients. 

Lightning flashed again. I surveyed the area quickly and spotted some stairs. Hendricks and I moved towards them quickly but quietly. I stepped around areas I knew were littered with materials. The lightning was a short lived blessing, and I held the image of the room in my mind, remembering where to place my feet. 

At the base of the spiral stairs I looked up, and could make out a warm orange light glow around the edges of the door. I could hear seductive music flowing out in steady beats. As I climbed upwards, I held on to the railing with one hand and tested the stairs with my feet. I timed my steps in tune with the thunder. The two of us made it up the stairs without making more sound than would normally be attributed to an old house during a storm. 

I paused, and ducked low on the final stair. I did not want to intervene at a bad time, such actions are reserved for fools who have no regard for the lives of those relying on them. If I wanted to, I could have stormed in on my enemies. However such a overt action might kill my youngest employee. Not to mention how unwise it was for me to assume I had the upper hand on a warlock who had the ability to kill without needing to see the target. So I waited,watched, and listened, forming my strategy in the darkness. 

I could see Dresden through the slightly open door. He was sitting on a small bed, back against the wall, and arms encircling his bent knees. His attention was held by a deep voice speaking. 

"You're sure you weren't followed?" The deep voice asked. I assumed he was the warlock targeting my territory. 

"No sir. They know nothing. I grabbed the only way the boss could find you. That kid can do stuff like you." Lawrence's voice was easily recognizable in my mind. "Well, not anymore, anyways. Those fancy cuffs took care of that; didn't they?"

The cuffs could suppress magic was not something I'd factored into my plan. It was, however, interesting.

The deeper voice didn't respond. In his silence, in the background I could hear softly pleasured voices of two, maybe three people. 

I heard large boots fall heavily across the ground, moving in the direction of Dresden. 

He never entered my field of vision, but Dresden looked angrily defiant up at the approaching person. I saw a hand reach out and tug him up out of the bed. Dresden tugged back at his hands, but the other man was stronger and pulled him up. 

"Sir," grumbled Lawrence. "Maybe I should handle him. He's a lot more cooperative with a gun pressed to his head. The kid clocked me one pretty hard."

"No need," the voice dismissed. "I can handle it. My wife tells me I'm fairly good with kids." The deep voice sighed. "Ah. You're quite strong. I can only hope my children turn out as potent as you."

I suppressed a shudder. This monster had kids. 

"I hear you're working for Gentleman Johnny Marcone. Tell me about him. "

I heard Dresden scoff, unwilling to give any information about me - out of pure spite. It wasn't the best dynamic I hoped to have with my employees. I prefer loyalty more-so than rebellion. But it was a start. 

"You see Lawrence over there? Hmmm? - Well he isn't a nice man. He says you hurt him pretty good. If I give him over to you, he might not do very nice things to you." The deep voice paused. I heard a clunk, and the man continued. "But if you were one of mine, Lawrence wouldn't be able to hurt you." There was a click of a tongue. "I'd vouch for you, and maybe my Master will extend his protection over you. You'd never have to fear the council again."

I saw Dresden flinch back into my view. The deep-voiced man slapped a hand tight on Dresden's wrist, just above the manacles, to prevent the teen from retreating. 

"Look at me Harry," the name rumbled off the man's tongue. "You could be free again."

Dresden managed to yank free this time, and stumbled back a few steps. 

I heard a deep-throated chuckle. "Have some time to think about it. I'm sure once you've mulled it over, you'll come around." The deep-voiced man appeared briefly in my line of vision, but was too quick for me to pull off a good shot with my gun. He was fairly tall, clad in black slacks and a classy black shirt, and had slick hair. He motioned for Dresden to go back to the bed. "Now don't try anything funny. Stay right there. Otherwise, either Lawrence or myself will have to put you down. I have little patience. Understand?"

Dresden continued to stare angrily up at the figure, but never the less, nodded slowly. 

"Good," grumbled the man. 

The teen sunk back down on the bed, his hair hanging over his face, but still alert. He attempted to softly yank apart the manacles, and I witnessed something disturbing. They seemed to curl and tighten, uncomfortably clamping down on his wrists in a slithering motion. He let out a yelp.

The voice of the warlock called back: "If you keep doing that you're going to hurt yourself." 

Dresden pretended not to listen. He yanked once more, and I squinted my eyes for a closer look. There were thorns radiating from the manacles and some of them had dug into the boy's skin. Little pin pricks of blood began to well up from where they nicked his skin. 

The warlock chucked. He sounded farther away. "Well, you're not a coward. My master will be pleased."

"And," said Dresden belligerently, "Just who is this 'Master' I keep hearing about?" Dresden scoffed. "Is he the one who trained that looser Nikola? Because I've got to tell you, he wasn't anything to be proud of." 

I frowned, at this rate he was going to get himself killed, while the rescue party stood right outside the door. 

"In fact, I'd bet if these thorn manacles were off, in a simple fight -you versus me- I'd wipe the floor with your sorry ass. And then to put the icing on the cake, I'd burn your pathetic evil lair to the ground. Take these off of me, I fucking dare you! Oh wait, you wouldn't because you're too weak!"

I assumed Dresden had tried to instigate the anit-magic-manacles off of himself - at least, that was the point. However, as he'd come to learn if he lived through tonight, in delicate situations such as these one tries to avoid escalation. 

I saw Dresden's face fall before the warlock said the words: "You're dead kid." 

I saw the warlock come into my line of vision, and start hitting my employee with closed fists. Hard. A few of the blows were aimed at Dresden's head. Had the floor been beneath him instead of the bed, there were a few punches that could have ended with a cracked skull and a massive amount of blood.

Dresden was struggling, trying to claw back at his attacker, but his wrists were clamped tightly together in an poor position. At this rate, he really would die. 

I couldn't shoot him, without the bullet passing through and hitting my employee. Direct confrontation wasn't something I normally engaged in. But if I put a gun to his head, it would end the bombardment. And once he was far enough away from Dresden, I could blow his brains out across the wooden floor. The other people in the room would be easier to take out. I rose from my crouched position, Hendricks following my lead. I approached the door, prepared to do something uncharacteristically stupid to protect one of my most valuable assets. 

"Victor!" Cried a feminine voice. One I recognized all too well.

I froze in place.

So did Hendricks.

So did the warlock, Victor.

The voice belonged to one Helen Beckitt. Married to Greg Beckitt. Mother of Amanda Beckitt - the child who'd been gunned down with a bullet that had been meant for me, one Gentleman Johnny Marcone. I felt a dark guilt rise in my stomach, but I pressed it down. Now was not the time for such thoughts. 

"Wench, know your place. Get back and we'll start the ritual up again." He turned his gaze back to Dresden. "After I finish up here."

"Victor, he's a stupid and scared kid. He means nothing to you. Please, let's just begin the ritual."

Mercy was not an attribute I associated with the cold hearted Beckitt who had hounded me and my compatriots with legal work that would put most top lawyers to shame. It was certainly something that hadn't existed within her eyes when she had glared daggers at me in court. 

Then again, she'd seen her own child killed in an act of violence; perhaps she couldn't witness another atrocity. 

I saw Dresden flop off the side of the bed into a crumpled pile on the floor.

The only one in my employment who worked magic, well enough to defeat the warlock, had just passed out in a bloody heap. Perfect. My day just seemed to get worse and worse.


End file.
